For All the Saints; Revelation 21:22-27; All Saints/November 5, 2017; Thomas H. Yorty;

FOR ALL THE SAINTS; REVELATION 21:22-27; ALL SAINTS/NOVEMBER 5, 2017; THOMAS H. YORTY; WESTMINSTER PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

Mention of heaven makes many Christians antsy. The notion of some place, after this life, to which we ascend and meet again those already departed seems a bit farfetched for our secular world.

Thus, many of usdiscount such claims, or simply say, “I don’t know.” And yet, here we are today, remembering, giving thanks for and entrusting members, friends and loved ones who died in the past year, into God’s eternal care and keeping in a place we call heaven.

So rather than wink knowingly to the little skeptic on our shoulder and say, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll never accept such a notion,” I’d like for us on this All Saints Day to consider just what heaven claims and why it is not just important but central to our faith.

It is disingenuous to say science doesn’t accept heaven. Science doesn’t accept anything it can’t prove and there are more things we depend upon, trust in and believe that shape our ordinary days that science can’t prove, than that it can.

For example, that the sun will rise, the stock market won’t collapse; and that it is better to be kind and loving than cruel and hateful.

Science is a very narrow band of quantifiable information and data that enables engineering and technology to do great things. So let us be clear, it is not science that says heaven doesn’t exist, it is not even the real scientists, the ones winning Nobel Prizes,who deny heaven;it’s the popularizers of science, who say speculatively, because they are not scientists, surely science would noit agree to a notion like heaven.

And let me say for the record that science does now include things like: time that bends, black holes and white stars – subjects that defy logic, reason and Newtonian physics which our day to day world of technology is based upon.

Perhaps, it’s enough to simply say there is mystery in the universe – things beyond our ability to comprehend; things we may never understand.

This is a comforting thought – there is more to life, more to my own little existence, than I can pin down or subject to an algorithm or 32 question psychological profile or 45 point facial recognition analysis that will reveal who I am, why I am here or what my destiny may be.

One of the great mysteries of this world is that we are here in the first place; that such wondrous creatures as human even exist.

The biblical story responds to this mystery with profound gratitude; praise for the source of life; and the realization of the responsibility that comes with the gift of consciousness and capacity for awe and wonder.

But the world has always looked askance at the biblical story; St. Paul encountered this as he brought the biblical account of creation and our place in it to gentiles and pagans.

And when pressed on the question of heaven he said this: if resurrection to new life is not true, then we are, of all people, the most to be pitied. For everything we do, say and trust depends on this solitary promise: that life is stronger than death, that love beats the grave. Our ability to comprehend that we will be received into the co- mmunity of heaven does not determine whether we can accept such a proposition.

Heaven as the church triumphant is an essential tenet of faith for Paul; without resurrection to heaven the whole thing collapses.

I admit my own struggle with heaven begins with the very words our choir sings today “Requiem” – requiescat in pace, RIP. The thought of resting in peace does not appeal. I’d much rather a heaven where I can run, bike and swim and enter a triathlon or two; where I can attend a concert or read a good book. In other words, I’d rather heaven was more like this life than some horizontal stasis for eternity.

But then today’s text hit me as if for the first time: a place where there is no temple because God is the temple; a place in need of no sun or moon because the glory of God is its light and Jesus its lamp. A place where the gates are never closed to anyone at any time for there will be no night there – no reason to fear the darkness or what the darkness may bring. Heaven is a place where the best of the nations and the people will be brought into it; nothing impure will be in it or proceed from it.

When I read those lines recently, I read them as culmination, completion, and perfection. The condition they describe is like the feeling I had when I caught a trout on a fly for the first time after trying for four years and felt overwhelming joy that I’d finally mastered ‘the cast’; or the deeply satisfying moment when I write a few lines that surprise me and qualify for what I would call a poem; this condition is not unlike a friend who still talks about the time he shot par on a challenging golf course; or the look on Garrett’s face when talks about a great work of music he wants our choir to sing.

In other words, there is no need to do a triathlon in heaven because heaven is the place where the triathlon has already been run and I am basking in the glory of it; heaven is where we enjoy, delight and rejoice in the fullness of our being; heaven is where all the things that hold us back are gone; and we now exist in the perfect way God envisioned for us when we were created in our mothers’ womb.

There is nothing left to do but savor the eternal moment because it’s all been done. Heaven is a great banquet; the crystal, china and silver or paper plates and cups if you prefer the metaphor of a picnic all laid out and a spread with lovingly prepared food;and we are gathered-- rich, poor, enemy, and friend, -- to feast and celebrate as at a grand wedding for we are all united in harmony, finally, one to another.

Heaven is a place Augustine described as a circle whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.

Heaven is Yeats’ Byzantium, Whitman’s America; Dante’s Paradiso. And it is,for sure, the Transcendentalist idea of justice – a place all are gathered regardless of race, creed or condition of life. An idea so big, a vision so bold can only be glimpsed by metaphor and art.

We’ll gather here at 4pm today to remember the homeless citizens of Western New York who died this past year and we will celebrate their inclusion in the company of heaven.

Our claim is that whatever it is that was taken away from them and led to their struggle, to their ending up without a home, and perhaps even without a family is restored to them a hundredfold; their laughter and delight can be heard across the great banquet hall.

Pain and suffering, loneliness, fear and shame have been removed. It is their presence that completes us and heaven itself. When we take time to notice and respond to humans degraded by want and misfortuneempathy and compassion are imparted.

Affirming a place called heaven reminds us of God’s abundant love and mercy and inspires us to live better, kinder, what used to be called ‘godly’ lives.

The more we incorporate heaven into our theology and worship, the more human we become, the more hope dispels despair, the more just it seems possible for this world to become.

Here’s another way to put it: if others can’t see in us some glimpse from time to time of life forgiven, restored and made new, in other words the breaking through of heaven’s glory and grace, then it begs the question: why are we here? Anything less capitulates to the limited expectations and standards of the world. Amen.

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